


Feelings for Rent

by Rabenschnabel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 21:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabenschnabel/pseuds/Rabenschnabel
Summary: To fit in with his business partners, Tom Riddle tries to solicit a discreet rent boy to find out what the fuss is about.Instead, he somehow manages to unearth the lost scion of a company bought out under fraudulent circumstances who sells his body to fund his law degree.To get revenge on an old nemesis, Tom decides on a different course of action.





	Feelings for Rent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cybrid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybrid/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [Cybrid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybrid/pseuds/Cybrid) in the [October_Flash_Fest_Part_Two](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/October_Flash_Fest_Part_Two) collection. 

> **Prompt:**  

> 
> Anything with rentboy Harry and client Tom.
> 
> Yeah look. This was supposed to be short and smutty with no plot. But now it's long and plotty with some smut?
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it because I sure as hell had a good time writing it :) 
> 
> This is not beta'd, I'm literally posting this the way I wrote it. I'll probably read over it tomorrow and iron out some awkward phrasings but for now I'm tired and I can't look at it anymore <3

Tom's fingers itched with the question of how good an idea this had been, exactly, as his Lamborghini rolled into the shoddy parking lot.

After parking and climbing out of the low seats, he walked towards a group of teenagers that was lounging in one corner. They were watching his approach with apprehension. 

A burly boy about Tom's own impressive height but with acne all over his face, probably their leader, stood up and tried to cut an imposing figure by crossing his arms. "Wot'ya want, fancy?"

"I have a proposition," Tom replied easily and got out a crisp 50 pound note. "You get this now and his big brother when I return to my unharmed car." 

The boy didn't need to consider this for long and snatched the bill from Tom's hand with a quick movement. 

"Got yourself a deal, mate," the boy promised with a toothy smile and returned to his group with a spring in his step. 

Satisfied that his possessions were in good hands for the time being, Tom made his way over to the decrepit apartment building. Internally, he was still debating whether he should go through but apparently, if he were to believe his business partners, everyone in their social circles solicited… sexual services of this nature. 

Tom wasn't a slave to his carnal desires as so many men seemed to be but to keep up appearances, he had vowed to give it a try—if only to be able to participate in discussions of that nature. 

He had found the ad on a discreet site that had been recommended to him by the CEO and owner of Lestrange Corp., an influential client of his. Hell, he'd needed an invitation by a member to be able to make a profile in the first place! 

The words still played in his head as he ascended the stairs because the elevator was broken. 

"Young man, discreet and polite, will do as you please."

He'd liked the brevity of it. No embarrassing innuendos or crass promises of this or that intense and kinky sexual act. So when he found himself in front of apartment 27, Tom was actually rather excited. 

He knocked three times and took a step back to wait. 

Pretty soon, the door opened and Tom found himself confronted with the most mesmerizing eyes he'd ever seen in his life. They were a beautiful, vibrant green and sat perfectly in a pale oval face adorned with big, dorky glasses, a round, pink mouth and artfully tousled black hair. 

It might have been a good decision to come here after all. 

"Welcome," the fairy-like boy greeted and spread his delicate arms out in a gesture of hospitality. "You're Mr. Riddle? Did you find it okay?" 

"Ah, yes, I am," Tom answered after a short pause and cursed himself for getting lost in those eyes so easily. "It was easy enough to find, yeah."

The young man smiled at that, a pretty little quirk of the lips, and beckoned him in. 

The flat wasn't anything special to someone of Tom's expensive tastes but everything was tidy and homey and exuded the sort of comfort Tom had never been able to inject into his own living spaces. 

"I hope you don't take it personally, but it's unofficial policy during home visits that the visitor goes to take a shower first," the boy explained and fidgeted a little with his hands. "Not that I don't think you're clean or anything, it's just… if you slack once, word will go around, you know?"

"No, I understand," Tom nodded, feeling out of place suddenly—reminded of how business-like this was. 

Did he really travel to the outskirts of London to have sex with a young man? It felt rather silly to him now. He didn't even know the boy! 

"I could come shower with you," the boy offered. "But… I get the feeling you're a bit of a private person." 

"I am," Tom agreed quickly, accepting the bundle of towels and a robe the boy handed him. 

"You don't need to wear the robe if you don't want to," the boy shrugs. "It would make things cosier if you did, of course, but you can continue to wear the suit if you're more comfortable that way. I'll go put on something more comfortable while you're gone, too." 

Tom thought that the loose white shirt and tight black trousers the boy was wearing looked comfortable enough but when the boy winked at him, he realised _ comfortable _ might refer to _ less_. 

He tried not to think about the implications as he rinsed himself thoroughly in the shower. The bathroom was small but tastefully decorated with a nautical theme and it made Tom crave a visit to the seaside again. Maybe next summer if he could take a week off somehow… 

When he exited the bathroom, no longer wearing his expensive suit but the silky, grey bathrobe, the boy was already waiting for him on the bed. 

Tom let his feet lead him over and sat down at the edge of it, mustering the boy impassively. He was wearing a bathrobe too, now, and his pale legs were beautifully accentuated by the silky fabric. 

"What may I call you?" Tom asked, putting his hands in his lap because he didn't know where else to put them. "You may call me Tom, if you wish." 

"Oh no, I didn't even introduce myself properly," the boy realised and his large eyes widened even more. "Sorry, sorry. I'm Harry! It's nice to meet you properly, Tom." 

The boy got up from the bed and brought over a little tea tray with two steaming mugs on it from the kitchen. 

"I thought you might like some tea," Harry smiled and Tom was grateful to have something to do with his hands. "Would you maybe like me to give you a massage? You seem a little tense." 

"I am a little tense," Tom admitted. "I've… never done this before." 

"Yeah, I can tell," Harry laughed and instead of being embarrassed, Tom found a little smile growing on his lips. 

"I mean, in my job, I'm very aggressive. I'm one of the best," Tom stated matter-of-factly, not because he wanted to boast but because it was true,. "But this… don't get me wrong—you are very attractive but it feels…" 

"Wrong? Forced?" 

"Nothing like that, no. I just don't feel comfortable simply… touching you." 

"Ooh, I see," Harry nods. "That's quite a common problem. Here, give me your hand." 

Tom did just that. Instead of merely shaking it, Harry grabbed a hold of Tom's right hand with both of his and started massaging the palm with deft movements.

"It's important to get to know the feel of each other," Harry explained. "Simple skin contact is a nice ice breaker. Does this feel good for you?" 

Tom nodded and used his free hand to drink from his mug. The tea was brewed perfectly. Wouldn't have gotten anything better in London's most expensive cafés. 

"You're good at making tea," Tom said and to his surprise, the boy blushed. 

"I'm a good cook, too," he admitted. "But cooking doesn't pay much and a law degree takes a long time, so…" 

Harry let that hang in the air and moved his hands over to Tom's neck and shoulders where he began to knead the tense muscles with precise movements. 

Tom shivered a little from how nice it felt to be touched like this and when Harry tugged gently at the hem of his robe, Tom allowed him to slide it off his shoulders. 

Harry whistled under his breath. 

"Somebody around here works out and it's not me," that melodious voice complimented and Tom felt his ears go red. 

What was going on? Why on _ earth _ was he so susceptible to compliments from the boy? He supposed it _ was _ Harry's job to make people feel good in any way possible but this was getting ridiculous. 

"I work out every morning before work," Tom told him and looked over his shoulder towards him. "I've always been an early riser." 

"Me too, actually," Harry grinned and slid his robe off his shoulders to reveal more creamy pale skin. 

"You know exactly what you're doing, don't you," Tom snorted, turning around to face the boy properly. 

"You could say that," Harry answered with a bashful grin and watched Tom cautiously.

Waiting for a clue on what he wanted next, probably. Attentive to details. A quick glance over at boy's desk revealed a stack of Law books, all practically littered with post it notes. Studious, too. 

"I am a lawyer, you know," Tom shared and reached over to the desk to grab one of the thicker volumes. "I remember learning all these by heart, once upon a time." 

"Once upon a time? You're not that old," Harry argued, putting the book back as Tom handed it to him. 

"I'm over forty," Tom admitted and revelled in the disbelieving look Harry shot his way. 

"No way! I'm not trying to suck up here or anything but I would never have pegged you for older than, huh, early thirties? What's your secret?" 

"I run on coffee instead of blood," Tom shrugged and Harry actually, honest to God, laughed at that. "So, why do you want to become a lawyer? The hours are terrible. The pay is good but you won't have a life." 

"I don't need the pay once I'm done with my first and only case," Harry explained and immediately sobered up. "There's someone I need to get behind bars and another someone I need to get out from behind bars but no one wants to take the case, especially pro bono, so I'll do it myself." 

"What?" Tom suddenly had a terrible premonition when he remembered the name over the doorbell and leaned back. "Potter… Was your father called James, by any chance?" 

Harry's face closed off immediately. "Sorry, Tom but I think I've said too much already. That can of worms is my problem and my problem alone. You're here to have a good time, I'm really sorry for wasting your time. I'll write off half an hour at the end. Now, what do you think about a good old snog? Your lips have been begging me to kiss them ever since we said hello."

Harry leaned over him and Tom allowed the boy to crawl in his lap and straddle his thighs. But even as those soft plump lips that tasted as sweet as they looked sucked the very breath out of his chest, his thoughts were still churning around the name Potter. 

James and Lily Potter, owners of Potter Corp. Ltd., a huge software giant. Died in a very suspicious car accident over a decade ago. Their CEO had been incarcerated for their deaths and for embezzling millions from the company which had then been sold out to Phoenix Enterprises, their largest competitor in the software market, by the board of governors. 

"They stole your money," Tom realised and Harry stopped kissing him and rested their foreheads together with a groan. "Albus Dumbledore stole your parent's company!" 

"Look, Tom—I'm… yes. Yes, he did. He pretended to mentor my parents, even sat on the board of governors, but when they refused to become part of his empire, he had them killed, incarcerated my godfather and sold my company to his own because the board was in his pocket."

"So now you're studying law to get it all back?" 

"Exactly," Harry sighed, leaning back on Tom's lap and looking down at him. "I thought you came here to maybe relax from your stressful job and have a good time? Because right now? You're doing your job again. I can see the gears working behind that pretty forehead of yours." 

No one had ever complimented his forehead before. Tom frowned a little and considered the revelations this unexpected meeting had brought him.

"Before I became a lawyer," he started, looking at the law books on Harry's desk again, "I dabbled in software engineering during my school days. I had the opportunity to present a program I'd designed and coded myself to the owner of Phoenix Enterprises as a reward for winning a city-wide contest." 

"Let me guess," Harry drawled: "He said how good your ideas were and what a nice boy you are and that you'll make it far in this world if only you believe in yourself but that it was not a good fit for his company right now." 

"And not a month later, he put his own version on the market," Tom agreed, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat. "So I became a lawyer. I mostly represent the elite but I have been known to make the odd exception or two. I once represented a young girl about your age who'd written a program for an intelligent diary slash notebook that would answer what queries you had in full sentences."

"Dumbledore's been doing this for ages," Harry spat out. "Taking people's ideas and programs and marketing them as his own because he's too powerful to cross and because he has this nice guy persona he fools the rest of the world with. I wouldn't even be surprised if him stopping" evil media mogul Grindelwald" was just a ploy to get rid off his competition in the entertainment sector." 

Tom thought furiously for a moment, ideas and schemes drifting through his head at such an alarming speed that he thought he might get dizzy any moment. But then, once he'd played through all the different scenarios, he gifted Harry with his trademark winning smile and watched the boy blush furiously. 

"Your ad specified that you'll do whatever the customer pleases, yes?" 

Harry nodded warily, obviously surprised and overwhelmed by the direction his Sunday had taken. 

"Great," Tom grinned and put Harry on the bed next to him before getting up. "Put on some clothes, we're going to my office." 

"What?" 

Harry was still sitting dumbly on his bed when Tom returned from the bathroom, once again wearing his elegant suit. 

"Get your cute butt up," Tom commanded with a confident wink. "We have an empire to overthrow." 

"What?" Harry repeated, pretty green eyes wide and disbelieving. 

"You do have evidence against Dumbledore and his empire, I hope?" 

Harry nodded slowly, eyes drifting towards a small safe standing in a corner of the room. 

"Excellent. I'm taking on your case." Tom clapped his hands together and smiled deviously. "You'll start working in my office starting tomorrow and will take your classes in the evening. The diary thing was a personal vendetta type case, but the Potter case? That will be one for the annals of history. We'll burn Dumbledore's empire up under his wrinkled old arse."

-o-

Half an hour later, after having been assured by Tom that yes, he was definitely allowed in the Lamborghini, they pulled into the parking garage under the office building Tom's office was apparently located in. 

After riding up the elevator, they entered Tom's office straight through the doors without needing to cross a corridor thanks to a special key the man had and found themselves in a small waiting area. 

A young man with sandy hair was busily typing away behind the reception desk and started talking to Tom without looking up. 

"Ah, Tom, you're here. Look, you better prepare yourself for some trouble. Lucius and Evan aren't happy about coming to work on a Sunday, and on such short notice, too." Here, he looked up and froze when he saw Harry. 

"Harry, that's my secretary Barty," Tom introduced them. "Barty, Mr Harry Potter here is my new paralegal and will leave this office with his own set of keys today."

"I—what?" 

"Have I made myself clear, Barty?" 

"Crystal, Tom," Barty agreed quickly. 

"Very well. Harry, I'll go talk to my other employees alone for a minute," Tom informed him. "You're to stay here and wait for me. Alright?" 

"Yeah, I can do that," Harry answered reflexively and watched Tom disappear behind the no doubt hideously expensive wooden door. 

"So do you… want anything to drink?" 

Harry looked to the secretary in alarm and quickly shook his head. "Ah, no, thanks. I don't want to be a bother." 

"Glass of water it is," Barty winked and brought a small bottle of fine water over together with a delicate crystal glass. "How do you and Mr Riddle know each other? Did he post an ad somewhere?" 

"Oh no, I posted the ad," Harry replied with a smile before realising that Tom probably didn't want his staff to know just what kinds of ads he perused. "I… was looking for a job. I'm studying law? Need to, uh, supplement my income a little." 

"No support from home then?" Harry shook his head mutely because Petunia would rather throw a flower pot at his head than give him money. "Yeah, I know that feeling. My father wanted me to be a surgeon and when I became a _ lowly secretary _ instead, he disowned me. Can't live with the shame of his only son doing a woman's job." 

"What a prick," Harry said forcefully because he'd heard the _ prostitution is only for women _ thing a couple times or ten before as well. "If you're happy doing what you're doing, it's all good." 

Barty grinned at him and was about to say something else when the large door opened again and Tom beckoned them in. 

He led them to a conference room where three other people were already waiting for them. 

"This is Lucius Malfoy, my senior partner," Tom introduced a regal-looking man with white-blond hair in an old-fashioned ponytail. "He'll be dealing with most other cases while me and the others concentrate on our new case." 

"What an honour," Mr Malfoy drawled at Tom with a slight drawl to his voice. "Mr Potter, it's nice to meet you. My father used to sing your grandfather Charlus' praises. They worked together on some projects back in the day." 

"I didn't get to meet my grandparents, unfortunately," Harry apologised. "Maybe you can tell me some stories, one of those days? I'm afraid my parents died so early that I don't quite remember much of what they told me about my family." 

"I have some stories about your parents as well," the only woman in the room interjected. "Mostly second-hand, but I guess you're one to take what you can get, right?" 

Harry eyed her curiously. She was wearing a ridiculously short and tight business skirt and a low-cut blazer and looked at him as if he was a particularly interesting little insect she was studying under a microscope. 

"I'm Bellatrix Lestrange, but I was born a Black," she explained. "I'm your dear godfather's cousin. Seems like fate has played you right into our hands, kid." 

Harry shook her hand enthusiastically. "We're finally going to free him," he grinned and looked back at Tom with a big smile that was returned with an indulgent one. He couldn't believe the direction this day had taken! 

"I'm Evan Rosier," the last employee, a man in his late twenties, said with a wink. "I'm afraid there's no familial connection, Mr Potter, but I'll be just as conscientious in doing my work as my colleagues." 

"Oh, of that I have no doubt," Harry replied with a grin and shook his hand. 

They spent a couple hours poring over the documents Harry had brought with him and photocopied them before putting the originals in a safe that must have been ten times more expensive and about a hundred times more safe than his own back at home.

After that, Tom closed the meeting and Malfoy, Rosier and Lestrange left the office. 

"Barty, I'm going to need your services," Tom said after they were gone and Barty's polite smile turned mischievous. "You're going to hack into Phoenix Enterprises' database and get us the facts and figures we're missing. For a software giant, their systems are woefully underprepared so you should be done quickly."

"Consider it done. I might get into the office late tomorrow. Best to do some hacking during the night." 

"You have free reign, as always," Tom shrugged. 

"So he's not _ just _ a secretary," Harry said with a grin and both men looked at him as if they'd forgotten that he was there for a moment. 

"Well, I can't very well tell my old man, who's the bloody _ commissioner _ of the London police, that his son is not only doing girly work but also illegal work." Barty hesitated for a moment and turned to Tom. "And you're perfectly sure he's not a snitch?" 

"Perfectly sure," Tom replied and waited before Barty had left them alone to turn back to Harry. "You will be reimbursed for your service as a paralegal, of course. Just tell me what you need for your classes and rent and what have you and I'll make that your salary." 

Harry simply stared. 

He couldn't—surely not? 

"You can't be serious," Harry snorted before sobering up when confronted with Tom's earnest face. "You're actually serious!" 

"You will receive _ millions _ of pounds once we win the case," Tom said laconically. _ Once _ we win, not _ if _ we win, Harry noticed with a strange, uplifting feeling in his tummy area

"So you're investing in the future?" 

"Precisely. No need to sell your body anymore." 

"Are you… morally opposed to that?" Harry wondered whether he was going to receive a lecture about the impurity of it after all but Tom merely shrugged. 

"No," he answered simply. "I just think you're better than that. Come on, I'll drive you home." 

"Let me cook you dinner," Harry blurted out and Tom quirked a finely-shaped eyebrow. "For everything you've done for me. Everything you are still going to do for me. You've, you've changed my life. It's the least I can do." 

"I don't expect anything sexual in return," Tom answered cautiously. "We're working for a percentage of what you're getting back." 

"I want to cook dinner for you," Harry reiterated. "I don't have much to offer until we get my money back, but I can at least cook you some nice food." 

"Alright," Tom agreed. 

-o-

After a surprisingly tasty meal of couscous salad served in blanched bell peppers, Tom had somehow found himself sitting on Harry's bed again. 

Granted, it was due to there not being enough space for a couch or anything and the small kitchen table had felt unsuited for their conversation, but the fact of the matter persisted—they were sitting on the boy's bed. 

Young man's. Not a boy, that would be creepy. Harry was already nineteen years old as Tom had learned, and was in the third semester of his law degree. 

"I normally abhor smalltalk," Tom told Harry after another sip of the cheap boxed red wine the boy had had in his fridge. 

"Well, this isn't smalltalk," Harry shrugged, slightly tipsy. "This is… sharing life stories. That's the completely different end of the spectrum. It's meaningful and deep whereas smalltalk is superficial and _ boring._ My aunt was all about smalltalk." 

"The one that hit you with a pan? After Dumbledore, we're getting back your parents' trust fund from her and her husband," Tom decided. "I don't like her. She sounds like the lady who ran the orphanage I grew up in." 

"She'd be exactly the type of person that would run an orphanage only to ruin poor childrens' lives," Harry agreed quickly. 

It was weird to not have someone comment on and feel pity for the fact that he'd grown up as an orphan. It was a nice change. A welcome one. 

"I'm glad I won't have to post these ads anymore," Harry admitted at that moment. "I mean, it paid the bills and I could schedule the appointments around my classes but, well. Not everyone was as nice as you." 

"I don't like thinking about other people here with you, Harry," Tom grimaced and put his glass down. 

"Oh? I thought you said you weren't morally objected to, well, prostitution?" 

"Only in special cases," Tom replied with a smug grin and watched with satisfaction as the boy blushed a fetching shade of red. 

"Yeah, well," he floundered, crossing his arms in front of his lean torso, "I don't have to do that anymore. And Tom? Thanks. I'm, I really mean it. Thank you." 

Later on, Tom didn't know whether it was the wine or the food or the company, but for the second time that day, he found himself with a lapful of long-limbed beauty and this time, he took as good as he got. 

"Your lips are really kissable," Harry groaned when they parted for air. "It's… very nice to do this for pleasure." 

"Hush," Tom commanded and attacked the boy's lips again, determined to suck out every memory of those that had come before him. 

In his opinion, it mattered not who had been there first. It only mattered who was there last. And now that he had found this wonderful, strange boy that looked like the fairytale beauties of old and with a tragic backstory to boot, Tom was not about to let him go anytime soon. 

Despite a nice, long snog, they were both tired from the day's events and fell asleep in their clothing, wrapped up in one another.

-o-

If anyone noticed that Tom wore the same suit as yesterday - and rumpled, at that! - they were all smart enough not to mention it. At least not while Harry was around. 

Since Barty wasn't there yet, either still hacking or sleeping off a night of hacking, Harry was manning the reception desk and felt woefully underprepared for what he was doing. 

Thankfully, he could spend most of the time studying since there were only four calls that whole day and only one visitor for Mr Malfoy. 

Still, he felt extremely relieved when Barty finally appeared shortly before closing time. He didn't have any documents with him but showed Harry an SD card with a conspiratorial smile. 

"All on here, kiddo," he winked. "We've got the old goat as good as in the sack. Their security was laughable. The admin password was _ Ariana_, the name of Dumbledore's dead sister, can you imagine?" 

-o-

That evening, Tom had invited them all to dinner at a fancy restaurant and despite wearing his best clothes, Harry felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. 

"I'll take you shopping next weekend," Tom promised as if he'd been able to read Harry's thoughts. "Get you some nice suits. I dare say you'd look extraordinarily handsome in some tailored Hugo Boss." 

Harry felt himself blush to the roots of his hair and shrank in on himself. Tom, whose arm was draped over the backrest of their sofa because apparently chairs were for poor people restaurants, put it around Harry's shoulders and jostled him a little. 

"No need to be bashful, Harry," the man's hot voice whispered in his ear and sent shivers down his spine. "I want them all to see how beautiful you can be."

-o-

Needless to say, they ended up together again that evening but this time in Tom's penthouse. It was huge and modern and spacious but it was very… empty. 

Tom nodded when Harry voiced these feelings and came over to where he was staring down at the well-lit street downstairs. 

Harry shivered when Tom stepped up behind him and closed the remaining distance between them by leaning back against his solid weight. 

"I've never felt… attracted to anyone before," Tom whispered into Harry's ear and it was all he could do not to sink to his knees immediately. "Especially not like this. Never like this." 

"I've never actually been in a relationship before," Harry shrugged, holding onto Tom's arm around his waist. 

"Mmh," Tom purred, gently biting his earlobes and Harry refused to feel ashamed of the wanton moan that escaped past his lips. "Would you like to be in one?" 

"Yes," Harry replied breathlessly and let himself be turned around by Tom. 

He was confronted with a hungry fire burning in those dark eyes and felt his breath catch in his throat. 

"I am a jealous man, Harry," Tom explained in a voice that was brimming with emotion under the calm surface. "I have been called possessive before and I do not deny that claim. What I have, I have whole. Would you be able to stand that? To be mine? To belong to me?" 

Harry had to hold onto Tom's shoulders to remain standing. He knew that to someone like him, who'd craved stability and a place where he belonged all his life, these words were like catnip. 

"Yes," he replied again, voice thick and moaned again when Tom descended on his neck to leave a bruising kiss there. 

"Good," the man purred into his mouth when he came up again and kissed Harry as if their lives depended on it. 

Tom's hands quickly found their way to Harry's bum and kneaded his willing flesh there which made Harry buck up into him.

"Fuck," Tom cursed and repeated his movement, pulling Harry into him again. "Oh fuck, I can feel you against me, Harry." 

Harry simply nodded in response and claimed Tom's lips in a kiss again, getting on his toes to put his arms around the man's neck. Fortunately, Tom understood Harry's wordless plea and used those muscles of his to pick him up and push him against the wall next to the window. 

Harry wound his legs together behind Tom and cursed when the man used their new position to grind into him. He did that for a while, grinding into Harry with abandon, until Harry stopped him with a hand on his cheek. 

"I'm gonna cum in my pants like a little schoolboy if you keep this up," Harry whispered feverishly, shivering with every further thrust. 

"Well we can't have that," Tom mouthed into his neck and walked them over towards a door that led into the spacious yet equally as empty bedroom. 

Thankfully, Tom's expensive taste in everything extended to his bed and Harry sank into the silky sheets with a sigh. The rich fabric felt smooth and cool against his feverish skin and it took Tom a little cough to gain his attention. 

"Enjoying the luxuries that have been kept from you all those years, young Harry?" 

"Quite," Harry agreed and watched with fascination as Tom pulled off his jacket and shirt.

When Tom opened his trousers while toeing off his shoes, Harry quickly got rid off his clothes as well and lay back down again in time for Tom to look down at him. 

Apparently, he was surprised by Harry's quickness, judging by the way his dark eyes lit up again. 

"You're so beautiful," Tom said reverently and looked down at him as if Harry was something sacred, something worthy of being worshipped. 

Harry quickly sat up and pulled Tom towards him by the hips, hiding his face against the man's hips and breathing in the clean, slightly musky smell. His hand came up to massage first Tom's thighs and then wander further inward until it could wrap around the hot throbbing flesh of his cock. 

Tom seemed to enjoy that, judging by the way his hips bucked up into the caress. Harry enjoyed just petting and teasing him for a while, relishing the small moans he could prompt from him, until a big, warm hand found its way into his hair. 

"Harry, stop teasing, fu—" 

Before Tom could finish that sentence, Harry had swallowed him down to the hilt and the answering wanton moan was worth the slight discomfort of swallowing such a nice, big cock whole. 

"You, you're such a, fuu—" 

Harry didn't find out what he was because he set to work and managed to reduce Tom to a stuttering, blushing mess with just his mouth and his tongue. 

When he used his hand to massage Tom's balls in his palm, the man bucked into him with a gasp one, two, three times and came with a groan deep in Harry's throat.

Harry obediently swallowed it all down and giggled a little when Tom sank to his knees and looked up at him with wide eyes. 

"I'm never going to let you go," Tom promised/threatened and Harry simply leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

Tom's tongue was curious and tasted himself on Harry's tongue. He let himself be guided back onto the bed and enjoyed being thoroughly snogged again by the man. 

They ended up with Harry on his back and Tom lying on his side, leaning on his right arm and using the left to wander over Harry's body. When those long fingers, slick with lube, curled around Harry's own prick, he saw stars behind his eyelids and moaned into Tom's mouth. 

Apparently, that was the right thing to do because Tom's kisses only got more intense and the pumping of his hand became more intent. When Harry finally came all over their stomachs, toes undoubtedly knotted together, Tom honest to God licked his hand clean and kissed him again afterward. 

"That was intense," Harry commented after he'd caught his breath and Tom made affirmative noises into his neck. 

He let himself be rolled around a bit so Tom could pull the covers over them and fell asleep, utterly exhausted, with a nice, comforting presence wrapped around him. 

-o-

Four months later, Harry watched with satisfaction how Albus Dumbledore was led out of the courtroom in handcuffs. 

He'd long since started spending most nights at Tom's by then and had livened up the space by filling it with bookshelves and plants and little knickknacks that managed to tie the rooms together without being overbearing. 

Once, when he'd gotten coffee with Barty, the young man had shared with him that ever since Harry had stumbled into their lives, Tom had become a lot more even-tempered. 

There had been a bit of a shovel talk, too, but Harry had agreed easily that hurting Tom was out of the question so Barty had been quick to accept his friendship. 

At their celebratory dinner - Harry had offered to pay, seeing as he was finally about to receive his inheritance - Tom asked him to move in permanently and Harry accepted with a wobbly smile. 

His godfather's hearing was scheduled in two weeks and for the first time since his parents had died, Harry felt peaceful and at home. 

"Thank you, Tom," he said with the most sincere smile he could muster up. "You changed my life."

"And you mine," Tom replied solemnly, eyes suspiciously wet. 

That night, when they returned to their penthouse, _ their _ penthouse, it was Harry who held Tom in his arms all through the night. And if he heard suspicious sounds and felt his arm getting wet where Tom's face was resting? Well, he would never mention it. 

That's just what boyfriends did. 

  
  



End file.
